|from an original photo by iMac, with many thanks|
from bomb-blast air:
from searchlights streaking black-lead sky
as dragon flames burned the stars.
I came from a salt spray wind,
while warships rippled silver trails
through calm seas,
or climbed storm mountains.
I came from a close-knit fear,
from family sardine squeezed into a shelter
where humour blanketed horror
and spread a kind of calm.
Linked to The Poetry Pantry today, and IGWRT on Monday.